Teardrops Oneshots
by nolongeractivehere1
Summary: Extra one shots from Teardrops, ranging from P.O.V of Nightfire, Goldleaf, Floodpelt, to Lightstar, Sparktail, and more. Enjoy!
1. Floodpelt POV

What about her is so alluring? Why will she not leave my mind, much as try? Is it the way she walks? A smooth ripple like the river, or the sun, or snow… blue and gold and cream…

She walks alone, among the rest of us all, proud and head high, but I see the pain when she looks at me, and it hurts to know _I _am the cause of her heartbreak. 

My heart is torn in two between her, and the other she cat… The one who blazes at me, her eyes the colour of sun or flame, her pelt darker than the night sky.

Nightfire, or Goldleaf? 

The choice is not an easy one to make. They both are, after all, winning my heart—and I feel like a terrible double crosser.

I've got to choose soon and I have no idea who to pick.

(***********)

She comes at me the next day, the one of night, raging about the cat of cream, gold, blue. How I love her. How wrong it is—"I thought you loved me,"—and I am angry.

"You've been seeing ThunderClan?" I yell, furious. "You've been seeing another tom! And you accuse me of infidelity?" I swallowed my rage. "Then we're no longer mates! Go to ThunderClan, full of darkhearts, where you belong!"

Soon after she has fled, after night has gone, the cat of cream-blue-gold, appears, tentative, her blue eyes concerned, and I don't know how I did not see it before—the obvious caring for my wounded heart, no matter what her feelings might be.

I sleep on it that night.

Troubling. That's what it is, simply.

But then, when I wake, I know the right thing to do. And something is unspoken but communicated all the same: it's love, love, love, I don't know how I overlooked it before. 

She is soon swollen with a kitten. I am proud.

But then—anger, fear—war comes. We need all warriors—no matter the cost.

When I see her—bloodstained, dying—I feel like screaming in agony, like my own soul was ripped out and torn asunder.

When she dies, part of me dies with her.

When my son is born, part of me, is as well, born with him.

She has taught me the power of true love's endurance. She has taught me more than I could have ever learnt alone, and to know where love really lies.

I will raise my son as well as I can, and then it will be time for me to go. He is growing into a fine warrior—nobility like I, sensitivity like his mother.

And when I am finally called to the stars, maybe I'll be able to see her… And tell her what I never really did. 

"_I love you.'_


	2. Nightfire POV

"Nightpaw- you will be sparring Goldpaw."

Nightpaw blinked in surprise, and then dismissive disdain. Not too worrying, just fighting a weak little new apprentice, she'd win easily—but then the cream and gold she cat padded forth, her burly frame moving smoothly and her eyes determined.

Suddenly unsure of winning, Nightpaw blinked. Then her confidence rushed back. She was a trained fighter—this was a soft kit, trained on what, moss balls and her mother's tail?

Nightpaw snorted, and dropped into the customary crouch, her tail lashing. 

"Tail still, Nightpaw," her mentor reminded her softly.

She held it still.

Goldpaw hesitated, looking at her hard. Then she leaped at her.

Nightpaw intercepted her launch, rolling under her, her sheathed paw raking up. She was tempted to 'accidently' let her claws slip, but she decided against it.

Goldpaw thumped to the ground with a thump.

"That was no fair!" she whimpered.

Nightpaw narrowed her eyes and scoffed. "Of course it was fair—do you think your opponent will apologize because you missed his stroke?"

Goldpaw's eyes looked hurt. She looked away.

"Try again, Goldpaw," urged Airwhisker. "No one expects you to get it exactly right on the first try."

_Damn well they don't, _Nightpaw thought sneeringly. 

Later, she was full of pride: her warrior name. It was done in a ceremony before sundown.

Her name was alright: Nightfire, nothing soft, it could even strike fear into a heart. 

Floodpaw pulled her aside, his eyes proud. "Good job, Nightfire." He twined his tail with hers.

"Thank you." She was surprised by this younger tom. His eyes were the colour of a green-leaf river, his pelt silver as stars. That was their beginning.

Things were uphill after that—she found her days filled with Floodpaw, then his name Floodpelt. But Goldpaw—Goldleaf—lingered darkly in the corner, corner of her mind, corner of her eye, and she was sure in the corner of Floodpelt's heart.

She strayed at the river's edge one day, confused and lonely. The trees whispered beyond her.

That was how she met Sparktail. He was the colour of the last, flickering spark thrown into the night sky. It was love at first sight—for him.

She could fool herself into thinking she loved him, but she knew she did not; and this was how her downward plummeting spiral into the pits of bitterness, resent, hatred, and sweet revenge.

Her dreams were fragmented whirls of anger and vengeance after she fled RiverClan. When the war came, she could only think: _Go and avenge your wrong. _

__The only twinge that pricked her conscious was her young kitten. Crying out for her. Wailing.

"_Mother, where are you going? Will you be back soon?"_

__"Yes," she murmured. "I will be back."

And when the life was torn from her body by his teeth—she did not fight back. How could she?

She glimpsed for a moment the bloody form of Goldleaf lying, dead, cat-lengths away. Her head throbbed with—what? Remorse, regret, and sorrow for a split-second. Then it cleared to reveal cold purpose.

"I'll be back," Were her last words. And the cold, sweet taste of revenge was the last thing she felt before passing on.


	3. Sparktail POV

She came from the river, broken and angry. The night fallen.

She was different than any other I had met.

I knew deep inside she didn't reciprocate my love. But when she had little Frozenkit I believed things might work.

But the flame in her eyes when war was approaching worried me. I told her she _could not _go, what if she died, what would happen to our son, why did she want to go anyway?

Her eyes flickered. "I need to fight," was all she said. "You can't stop me."

So, foolish I, let her go.

I fought for my Clan, fought well, but still—we lost the wretched war. Morningstar and two ShadowClan cats died, as well as two RiverClan cats. 

_But I never expected to see Nightfire's body lying in the grass…_

Her throat was scored with three slashes. A wisp of silver fur, smelling of water was all I got for my desperate, agonized search of who killed her.

I went home, heartbroken, and broke the news to Frozenkit. I still remember it.

"Where's Mother?"

"Frozenkit…" I looked at my son and swallowed. "I'm sorry. She didn't make it."

I remember, even sharper, when he left ThunderClan. I was sure StarClan was punishing me for ever falling in love.

I know that any more attempts on love are wasted on me.

StarClan has seen to that.

I still see my son across the river sometimes. He will never know, and I can never tell him, but I still do love him, no matter his choices or actions. I still am proud of him for growing into a fine warrior who chose his path.

Perhaps, now, StarClan will let me love and live again. 


End file.
